About this time last year, I was sitting outside at my park
residence in Coe Park watching a beautiful sunset. To the
southeast, thunderclouds were building up over the mountains east
of Hollister. Billowing clouds rose toward the west, and the sun
glowed crimson orange through some of the clouds.
About this time last year, I was sitting outside at my park residence in Coe Park watching a beautiful sunset. To the southeast, thunderclouds were building up over the mountains east of Hollister. Billowing clouds rose toward the west, and the sun glowed crimson orange through some of the clouds. It was a lovely sunset, but I gave it only a B- rating compared to all the sunsets I’ve enjoyed so far during my time on Earth.
We Earth inhabitants are blessed with four very extraordinary visual treats: Wildflowers, rainbows, butterflies and sunsets. The variety of beauty in these jewels of nature is seemingly endless. But sunsets, unlike wildflowers, rainbows and butterflies, have no finite design. There must be more uniquely beautiful sunsets than there are grains of sand in the sea. I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of sunsets. I give them ratings from A+ to C-. There are no D’s or F’s in the realm of sunsets. When you’ve seen a few spectacularly gorgeous sunsets, you can become a bit jaded, and what other people consider a great sunset, you may rate as a B or B-. Nevertheless, you should try to make sure you never miss even a C- sunset.
So what makes a sunset extraordinary? There is no precise formula. Every sunset is different from every other one. And who knows what unique set of circumstances will create an even more wonderful sunset than the best one you’ve been lucky enough to witness so far in your life?
The most typical type of special sunset sets up this way: It’s October or November and a weak storm front is passing through. The clouds to the west are a combination of two types.
First there are the somewhat thick mid-level clouds with a band of clear below them along the horizon toward the sea.
Then there’s a mix of mare’s tails, herringbone clouds, patchy puffs, and other high-level clouds. Ironically, for prime sunset conditions, a moderate amount of smog should be floating above the southern Santa Clara Valley, or maybe remnants of smoke could be blowing through from a distant wildfire.
As the sun sets, a stillness settles in around your outdoor theater. The mid-level clouds slowly block out the sun, but the thunderheads to the east begin to glow pink, not true pink, but a pink with a purplish tinge. That’s the color you almost always see in the clouds to the south and north as a good sunset progresses.
Finally, the sun peeks under the dark mid-level clouds, and the landscape around you lights up with a golden Maxfield Parrish glow.
As the sun begins to set, the undersides of the mid-level clouds begin to glow, and the high clouds begin to take on a variety of colors that intensify the intricacies of their forms. You look over your shoulder and the clouds to the east, all by themselves, are putting on a show that’s worthy of a good sunset rating.
Mixed with the myriad of reds, oranges, purples, and pinks are small streaks and flecks of burning-phosphorus white, and shooting above the tops of the clouds are wide radiating streaks of faint light, all originating from the same location below the horizon, long parting rays shining directly from the sun.
After you’ve seen the best sunset you’ll ever see, and you know the precise formula required for an A+ sunset, you might be standing at the park entrance one evening and suddenly realize that you’re surrounded by clouds moving here and there, falling and rising, swirling all around. Through the breaks in the clouds the sun begins to shine brighter than you’ve ever seen it shine before.
Try to find time to watch sunsets, even those that just rate a B- or so. Like peering into wildflower faces, admiring butterflies, and gazing at rainbows, spending time with sunsets can fill you with peace and rejuvenate your spirit.
Barry Breckling is a ranger at Coe Park. This column was originally published in the Ponderosa, the newsletter of Coe Park’s Pine Ridge Association. For more information about the Pine Ridge Association and how to join and receive the PRA newsletter, see www.coepark.org
